


Thomas Thorne: Resident Wine Aunt

by kenwayhoe



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Light Angst, Sort of an AU, light fluff, there was an attempt at comedy, wine aunt thomas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenwayhoe/pseuds/kenwayhoe
Summary: A series of small drabbles in which we see how Thomas acts with the children of the women he loves. (AU where he lives for a few years more)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Thomas Thorne: Resident Wine Aunt

“Thomas?” a beat, “Uncle Thomas?”

The small child gently shook the sleeping man’s leg but to no avail. Thomas was half slumped over the sofa’s armrest, one hand still loosely clutching his empty wine glass. Something it usually wasn’t capable of. The child sighed and sat up from the floor he had been quietly playing on for the past hour.

When he returned to the parlor, blanket in tow, Uncle Thomas was still dead to the world. His mouth hung slightly open with an accompanying trail of drool with it. Wine glass still in hand. The boy gently straightened Thomas as best he could with his strength without waking him up. Putting a pillow under his head as well a blanket up to his chin, tucking him in just like his uncle would do for him on the rare occasion. 

Hopefully they could play tomorrow. For now, it seemed like he would have to continue playing on his own.

* * *

“Uncle Thomas, you met mamma before pappa did, yes? Was she different back then?”

The wispy man paused in his wine pouring and looked a little wistfully at the deep red sea in his glass.

“Ah, Isabelle BCF. Before Cousin Francis.” He explained when Oliver looked at him questioningly. “Well, I did not know her for too long before him. Not much changes in such a short amount of time.” Thomas finished pouring his cup of wine and sat on the sofa, hoping the conversation would be over with that unsatisfactory answer. A fool’s wish however when dealing with a curious boy like his nephew.

“But you always speak of how love changes someone to their very core. Especially when it’s true love. Mamma and pappa share a true love do they not?”

Thomas winced slightly.

“When it _is_ true love” he corrected gently, stalling for time, “You know what I have told you about conjunctions. And yes, love tends to do that. It is a wonderful thing.” Thomas paused for a drink to collect his thoughts so that he may speak to his small nephew in a censored way.

“As long as I have had the fortune of knowing your mamma Isabelle, she has been the loveliest of all. Being in love has only made her more enchanting.”

He spoke more to the glass than anything and Oliver almost thought he looked forlorn.

“You always speak like a poet uncle.”

So much for censorship.

* * *

“Aw Alison! He’s the most adorable little baby I’ve ever seen! And I’m not just saying that because I owe you a tenner.”

“It’s actually £20 but that’s alright Liz.”

The ghosts, quiet for once apart from the occasional ‘aw’ or murmur, were piled around the crib next to Alison and her friend. All collectively cooing over Alison’s newborn. Thomas however was looking on from the side of the room. Not an unusual occurrence but there was a trace of sadness rather than superiority to his isolation this time. He was smiling at the baby but occasionally his downcast eyes would drift to Alison and it seemed like something distant was on his mind.

 _'Love is like a child,_ _That longs for everything it can come by'_

* * *

“Thomas, it’s your turn for baby watch! Remember, the baby monitor is on so all you have to do is speak and I can hear you from the kitchen. Today’s lunch shouldn’t take too long but I just don’t want to wake him up.”

“Yes of course Alison. No need to fret.” Thomas smiled warmly in reassurance.

He would have liked to have put a hand on her shoulder for comfort, knowing well how a new mother could worry herself sick over her newborn child, but there were a lot of things he couldn’t do. Even when he was alive.

As Alison left with a signature thumbs up, Thomas sat on the chair by the crib, watching over the child dutifully.

“You know, you are quite the peaceful babe. My nephew was like that. Oliver.”

…

“I loved his mother too. I should not have continued for so long but…I could not help it.”

…

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

* * *

“So, Thomas, were you ever a kid person?”

“Pardon?”

“Like were you good with kids? I feel like you’d be the type to read them Tolstoy for entertainment.”

“Well I think I-”

“Oh actually!” Alison cut him off with a drunken wave of her hand, “You give off wine aunt vibes!”

“I- wine aunt vibes?” Thomas sounded out carefully.

“Yea like uhhhhh” Alison’s drawn out syllable seemed to sway in time with her body, “You’re the cool aunt who just nonchalantly sips her wine at family gatherings but despite her coolness, there’s like a hidden warmth to her. Y’know, for the kids.”

“You think there is a hidden warmth to me?” Affection and surprise rising with each word spoken.

“Well sure buddy. I see how you are with _my_ kid at least and plus, you’re like a poet. All poets have to be warm right?”

Before Thomas could think of a response though Alison had promptly fallen asleep, unaware of the nostalgic smile she left on the ghost’s face.


End file.
